being damned difficult to please."
"Always was,"
Harris had added simply. Barrymore had thrown him an angry blue stare, but
remembering that Jason had earlier turned down an animal of Tom's choice, his
anger evaporated, and he had grinned and admitted, "You never did pay any
attention to us. And I don't know why I expected you to be any different now."
After that the sales had
gone smoothly, and Jason had purchased a number of horses. Most would be
stabled and taken care of by his uncle's head groom as previously arranged.
Although Jason had brought his own stableman with him, Pierre's cousin Jacques,
he intended Jacques to handle the horses he would buy for his own use in
England. He was fortunate enough to find a likely looking, burly black stallion
and a pair of matched bays as well as a few hunters for just that purpose and
had them delivered into Jacques' capable hands without delay.
February also found him
established in his own rooms on St. James's Street. The duke had frowned when
Jason told him of his plans, but then Roxbury had shrugged carelessly and
remarked, "Do as you please—only remember that you are to be here to dine
on Wednesday with myself and Rufus King."
Having delivered
Jefferson's dispatch to King, having purchased a number of horses for the
nucleus of the breeding stock, and now settled in his bachelor quarters, Jason
was fairly well satisfied with his progress. Consequently, he began to allow
Barrymore and Harris to take up more of his time.
He awoke one morning with
such a thick head from a night of drinking with Barrymore and Harris that he
wondered if he would survive their reckless pace. Lying there in his bed with
his aching head, he decided that he had run loose long enough and that this
wild drinking, gaming, and wenching would have to cease, or he would return to
New Orleans a ruined man—in health!
Pierre entered the room
just then, his monkey face wearing a puzzled frown. "Monsieur, were you
searching for something last night?"
Casting a somewhat bleary
eye at him, Jason asked mockingly, "When? At four-thirty this morning when
I returned? And for what?"
"I do not know, but
the clothes in your wardrobe have definitely been disarrayed, and your footwear
is not as I had left it."
Shrugging Jason replied
lightly, "It was probably that serving wench who looks after the rooms,
unable to resist her curiosity."
"If that is so,
monsieur, she has also looked into the bureau drawers and even your desk in the
other room," Pierre returned tartly.
"What the devil do you
mean? And how do you know?"
Looking very superior,
Pierre replied calmly, "When I noticed this morning, monsieur, the disarray
of your garments and footwear, I took it upon myself to see how far this—this
snooping had gone. She has obviously looked through everything. There was
nothing very much greatly disturbed, you understand—just enough so that one
could tell that objects were not in their proper places."
"Well, tell the chit
that you've discovered her nasty little vice and that if it happens again, I
shall discharge her." And with that Jason dismissed the incident from his
mind.
Less than a week later, he
attended a horse auction at Epsom Downs accompanied as usual by Barrymore and
Harris. England was enjoying an unusually warm February. The weather was
beautiful, although there were still patches of snow on the ground, and the
auction had drawn quite a crowd. Aimlessly the three wandered among the stalls
and crowded aisles viewing all manner of horses from the small, sturdy Welsh
ponies to the looming, majestic shire horses. And, of course, it was the thoroughbreds
that drew Jason.
Standing near the edge of a
scarlet-roped ring where the animals were paraded and bids called for, he was
admiring a particularly sleek chestnut filly when he had the uneasy feeling
that someone was staring at him. He ignored the sensation at first, but it
persisted and somewhat curiously he glanced over the shifting, colorful
"Always was,"
Harris had added simply. Barrymore had thrown him an angry blue stare, but
remembering that Jason had earlier turned down an animal of Tom's choice, his
anger evaporated, and he had grinned and admitted, "You never did pay any
attention to us. And I don't know why I expected you to be any different now."
After that the sales had
gone smoothly, and Jason had purchased a number of horses. Most would be
stabled and taken care of by his uncle's head groom as previously arranged.
Although Jason had brought his own stableman with him, Pierre's cousin Jacques,
he intended Jacques to handle the horses he would buy for his own use in
England. He was fortunate enough to find a likely looking, burly black stallion
and a pair of matched bays as well as a few hunters for just that purpose and
had them delivered into Jacques' capable hands without delay.
February also found him
established in his own rooms on St. James's Street. The duke had frowned when
Jason told him of his plans, but then Roxbury had shrugged carelessly and
remarked, "Do as you please—only remember that you are to be here to dine
on Wednesday with myself and Rufus King."
Having delivered
Jefferson's dispatch to King, having purchased a number of horses for the
nucleus of the breeding stock, and now settled in his bachelor quarters, Jason
was fairly well satisfied with his progress. Consequently, he began to allow
Barrymore and Harris to take up more of his time.
He awoke one morning with
such a thick head from a night of drinking with Barrymore and Harris that he
wondered if he would survive their reckless pace. Lying there in his bed with
his aching head, he decided that he had run loose long enough and that this
wild drinking, gaming, and wenching would have to cease, or he would return to
New Orleans a ruined man—in health!
Pierre entered the room
just then, his monkey face wearing a puzzled frown. "Monsieur, were you
searching for something last night?"
Casting a somewhat bleary
eye at him, Jason asked mockingly, "When? At four-thirty this morning when
I returned? And for what?"
"I do not know, but
the clothes in your wardrobe have definitely been disarrayed, and your footwear
is not as I had left it."
Shrugging Jason replied
lightly, "It was probably that serving wench who looks after the rooms,
unable to resist her curiosity."
"If that is so,
monsieur, she has also looked into the bureau drawers and even your desk in the
other room," Pierre returned tartly.
"What the devil do you
mean? And how do you know?"
Looking very superior,
Pierre replied calmly, "When I noticed this morning, monsieur, the disarray
of your garments and footwear, I took it upon myself to see how far this—this
snooping had gone. She has obviously looked through everything. There was
nothing very much greatly disturbed, you understand—just enough so that one
could tell that objects were not in their proper places."
"Well, tell the chit
that you've discovered her nasty little vice and that if it happens again, I
shall discharge her." And with that Jason dismissed the incident from his
mind.
Less than a week later, he
attended a horse auction at Epsom Downs accompanied as usual by Barrymore and
Harris. England was enjoying an unusually warm February. The weather was
beautiful, although there were still patches of snow on the ground, and the
auction had drawn quite a crowd. Aimlessly the three wandered among the stalls
and crowded aisles viewing all manner of horses from the small, sturdy Welsh
ponies to the looming, majestic shire horses. And, of course, it was the thoroughbreds
that drew Jason.
Standing near the edge of a
scarlet-roped ring where the animals were paraded and bids called for, he was
admiring a particularly sleek chestnut filly when he had the uneasy feeling
that someone was staring at him. He ignored the sensation at first, but it
persisted and somewhat curiously he glanced over the shifting, colorful
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